Rise of the Lycans

by Greg Cox

  An animal cry ripped from his throat as he flew at her like a hurricane. His fist clamped around her throat as he threw her onto the nearby bed. Even the hardened Death Dealers backed away fearfully, frightened by the Elder’s volcanic fury. He held her down upon the bed. Her bleeding neck stained the sheets. She screamed loudly enough to be heard all over the castle.

  “I wanted to believe your lies!” her railed at her. Bloody spittle sprayed her face. His sharp nails dug into her neck. “I suspected, but I knew it could not be. Not my own daughter!” Angry tears leaked from his eyes. His voice was hoarse with emotion. “How could you?”

  There was only one true answer. “Father, I love him.”

  “Do not speak those words!” His livid face twisted into a demonic mask. His voice cracked as though his heart was breaking. “You betrayed me! To be with an animal!”

  He let go of her neck and she huddled atop the bed, weeping. Claw marks scarred her throat. Blood stained the bodice of her gown. Violent sobs racked her body as she realized that all hope was lost.

  We are undone, my love.

  Her father swayed upon his legs, seemingly overcome by the damning memories he had stolen from her mind. For a moment she thought that he might collapse altogether, then he stiffened and gazed down on her in judgment. A note of sadness dispelled the anger in his voice. He shook his head mournfully.

  “I loved you more than anything,” he said before sweeping out of the room. The door slammed shut behind him. He barked at the guards in the hall. “She does not leave this room!”

  Sonja found herself under house arrest. How now was she to make her rendezvous with Lucian? He would be expecting her in two nights’ time.

  Her distraught gaze went to the shuttered window. Nearby, a hooded riding cloak hung upon a hook….

  Lucian smelled the smoke from the campfires even before he reached the clearing by the river. The smell of roast venison made his mouth water. After an exuberant night hunting wild game with the pack, he wasn’t exactly famished, but he had worked up an appetite hiking back to the camp and a bite of breakfast sounded appealing. Chirping birds greeted the morning. He savored the feel of the sun on his face; there had been times last night when he had feared that he would not live to see another dawn.

  But instead I laid the groundwork for a new alliance….

  He heard Raze, Sabas, and Xristo conferring around the campfire. A twig snapped beneath his boot and the men leapt to their feet in alarm. They snatched up swords and axes, then relaxed as they spotted Lucian emerging from the brush. The young lycans called out to him enthusiastically, while the stoic African merely raised a hand in greeting. Lucian appreciated their welcome, but was mildly dismayed at how easily he had taken them by surprise. Apparently, he needed to tighten security around the camp.

  They were safe enough from the vampires by day, true, but that didn’t mean that Viktor couldn’t hire human mercenaries to exterminate them. I wouldn’t put it past him, Lucian thought. If we can enlist mortal allies, so can our foes.

  Joining his comrades by the fire, he looked over his growing army. He was pleased to see that their unlikely band of humans and lycans now numbered nearly fifty men. Their arms had improved as well; instead of sticks and stones, many of the rebels now sported swords, maces, bows, axes, scythes, pitchforks, and other weapons, all presumably appropriated from the estates of their former masters. He nodded approvingly at Raze. The mortal had clearly been busy in Lucian’s absence.

  “At this rate, we’ll have enough men within a week,” Sabas said proudly.

  Perhaps, Lucian thought. And not just men… He wondered when best to let Raze and the others in on the results of last night’s expedition. They had good reason to fear the wild werewolves. And might not welcome the idea of casting their lot with them.

  Another thought crossed his mind. “Has there been any sign of Sonja?”

  Raze shook his head. “Nothing.”

  “With respect, Lucian,” Xristo said, “I do not see the wisdom in waiting for her.” He frowned at the thought of bringing Viktor’s daughter into their midst. “She is not one of us.”

  Lucian had anticipated this reaction. “She is the one who set us free.”

  “But she is a vampire!” Xristo protested. Unable to contain himself, he jumped to his feet. He glowered at the nearby river, where Lucian hoped to soon rendezvous with Sonja. “If she has betrayed you, she could lead them to us!”

  Betray us? Lucian would not hear his beloved slandered thus. Rising in anger, he grabbed Xristo by the throat and swung him into the trunk of a sturdy oak. The jarring impact shook the tree, causing nuts and branches to rain down on them. Xristo squirmed helplessly in Lucian’s grasp. All around the camp, humans and lycans were riveted by their leader’s outburst. He raised his voice so that all would hear—and understand that his love for Sonja was not to be questioned.

  “Death Dealers will undoubtedly be on the hunt,” he stated bluntly. “And they will eventually find us. But not by her doing.” He tightened his grip on Xristo’s throat to ensure that he had the husky lycan’s full attention. “I trust Sonja with my life. And as long as I am in command, so shall you.” Xristo nodded meekly.

  The High Council convened in the crypt immediately after sundown. The tension in the air was fairly palpable. It seemed to Viktor that Coloman and his fellow malcontents could not wait to assail him with their usual litany of grievances.

  “Lucian has sacked two estates in Brashov, milord,” Orsova reported. Carrier pigeons had brought word of the rebels’ audacious raids. “And made off with the contents of their armories. The human slaves have joined his ranks.”

  Shocked gasps and exclamations greeted this dismaying news. Coloman was quick to take the floor. “Freedom is as much a disease as William’s abhorrent pestilence,” he declaimed. “You need to bring your unruly pet back.”

  His acerbic tone clearly placed the blame for Lucian’s misdeeds squarely on Viktor’s shoulders. That he had earlier argued for increased lenience regarding the lycans had been conveniently forgotten, making him a hypocrite as well as a conniver.

  “Thank you, Coloman,” Viktor said sarcastically. “The obvious had escaped me.” He sat brooding upon his throne, too absorbed in grief to want to waste time parrying words with Coloman and his ilk. He had more serious matters on his mind than the mewlings of these pampered weaklings. “But I need not lift a finger to quash this insurrection. Lucian will return to this castle of his own free will.” His throat tightened and his eyes grew dark with mixed anger and sorrow. “I have something he wants.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Hoofbeats echoed through the forest.

  Lucian and the other rebels seized their weapons. Fear swept over the campsite, with many of the men looking poised to run. Others snarled as they girded themselves for battle. Fangs and claws extended as several of the lycans shifted into wolfen form. Lucian traded a worried look with Raze. Was this the raid they had been expecting for days now? Had the Death Dealers found them at last?

  I think not, Lucian thought. The resounding clop-clop coming toward them sounded like the advance of a single rider, not the thunderous charge of an invading force. He signaled the men to stand ready as he rushed forward to meet the horseman—or woman. A thrilling possibility caused his heart to beat wildly in anticipation. Could this be Sonja, one night earlier than planned? Who else would know where to find us?

  He peered hopefully into the shadows, and was rewarded by the sight of a solitary horsewoman riding into the clearing. A hooded burgundy riding cloak hid the newcomer’s identity. Slender white hands gripped the reins of an ebony-black palfrey.

  Lucian’s face lit up. He raced to meet her.

  Sonja, my love!

  The woman pulled back on the reins, bringing her horse to a halt.

  “Milady,” he greeted her.

  She threw back her hood, revealing flaxen hair and cold violet eyes. Lucian’s heart sank in disappointment. “Luka?” He
recognized Sonja’s lady-in-waiting from the castle. According to Sonja, the elegant blond vampiress had played a small part in Sonja’s efforts to visit him in the dungeons. He feared to think what Luka’s presence here meant for their hopes for the future. “What is it? Where is she?”

  Luka eyed with obvious discomfort the scruffy outlaws loitering behind Lucian. No doubt she was acutely aware of just how vulnerable she was at this moment. Tearing her fretful gaze away from the lycan band, she addressed Lucian coolly. Both fear and anger peppered her voice. As a vampire, she had no love for his kind.

  “Sonja has been arrested,” she declared. “Her father knows… about the two of you.”

  The news staggered Lucian. He reached out to steady himself against a moss-covered tree trunk. This was the moment he had been dreading ever since their first stolen kiss. He could readily imagine Viktor’s virulent reaction.

  “He will kill her.”

  Luka nodded. Her acid tone made it clear that she held Lucian personally responsible for her lady’s misfortune. “I thought you should know.”

  Without another word, she wheeled her horse around and kicked it into motion. Lucian stared bleakly after her as she rode off with all deliberate speed. The horse’s pounding hooves left a cloud of dust and fallen leaves in its wake.

  Oh, Sonja, he lamented. What have I done to you?

  Raze watched unhappily as Lucian prepared for war. Black leather armor encased his body. Twin swords were strapped across his back. The lycan’s eyes burned with fierce determination, while all about the camp his followers debated their leader’s sanity. Raze could feel the anxious eyes of the camp upon them. A buzz of angry mutters and complaints simmered in the background. Intent on rescuing his woman, Lucian seemed oblivious to his army’s discontent.

  “It is a trap,” Raze warned him. “You know that.”

  Lucian did not dispute this, but showed no sign of abandoning his suicidal quest. “I will not let her die alone.”

  Raze remembered glimpsing the vampire during the battle at the crossroads. Lucian had challenged an entire pack of werewolves to defend Sonja then; now it seemed he was willing to take on Viktor and his entire army in the same cause. The giant admired his friend’s devotion to the lady, even as he feared that it would lead Lucian to his death. And perhaps bring about the end of everything they had achieved so far.

  He gestured at the lycans gathered behind them. “They followed you here, Lucian. If you go, we will lose them.”

  “No, we will not,” Lucian reassured him. “Let me tell you a secret, my friend. They only thought they followed me. What they truly followed was the idea of being free. That is why they are here. Not me.”

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, warning of an impending storm. The unsettled atmosphere matched the turbulence building within Viktor’s soul as he brooded upon his throne in the great hall. Sensing the Elder’s mood, the other vampires kept their distance. Only a handful of courtiers and courtesans populated the hall, most preferring to mingle elsewhere. Even Tanis was nowhere to be seen; the scribe had sequestered himself in the archives following his close call in the armory. A goblet of fresh steer’s blood, still warm from the slaughterhouse, did nothing to lift Viktor’s mood. There was nothing left now but to wait.

  And to wonder mournfully how he might have averted these dire events.

  The captain of the guard entered the hall. Viktor had sent for him in hopes of news. He cocked his head expectantly.

  Yes?

  The soldier knew what the Elder was waiting for. “Nothing yet, milord.”

  Viktor nodded grimly. He took another sip of blood.

  Soon, he thought. Lucian will be here soon enough.

  Castle Corvinus loomed upon the mountaintop like the gateway to hell. Lurking at the fringe of the forest, hidden behind the trunk of a naked elm tree, Lucian peered up at his former home and prison. He had hoped never to return to this place except at the head of a conquering army, yet circumstances had dictated otherwise. His men were not yet ready to lay siege to the fortress and he dared not risk their own lives and liberty for the sake of his own love. Indeed, despite the allegiance of Raze and the others, Lucian suspected that he might well have driven his troops to mutiny had he asked them to fight to the death for the sake of an endangered vampire.

  No, he mused. This task is mine, and mine alone.

  Lightning flashed to the south, briefly turning the night to day. A strong wind whipped up the twigs and leaves around his boots. Skeletal branches creaked and rustled before the oncoming gale. The air was tense and electric. A second boom of thunder sounded louder and more near. The storm was obviously close behind him.

  Good, Lucian thought. With luck, the tempest would mask his approach.

  Peeking out from behind the tree, he spied an alert Death Dealer patrolling the battlements above the front gate. Loaded ballistas waited to rain down death upon the winding path leading up to the castle. The vampire looked out over the desolate terrain, but apparently saw nothing amiss. Lucian waited until the sentry moved on before darting from the shelter of the forest toward the base of the mountain. He sprinted with preternatural speed, fearing all the while the cry of a watchful guard or the fatal pang of an arrow through his chest, until he reached the steep gray cliff beneath the castle’s walls. Breathing hard, he flattened himself against the solid granite. Only four nights ago, he recalled, he had scaled these very walls to enjoy his passionate tryst with Sonja. If only he had known then what ghastly trials lay before them next!

  We should have fled that very night, he thought, and never returned.

  He took a moment to ready himself, then began to climb.

  Thankfully, the rain had not yet begun to fall.

  Vayer was relatively new to the Death Dealers, having served as a squire for some seventy years before being elevated to the corps by Marcus himself. He wondered why he had been assigned to stand guard over the lycan blacksmith’s old forge, but he was not about to question his superior’s orders. If Captain Sandor wanted him to spend the night watching over an abandoned smithy, then that was what he was going to do. Could be worse, he thought. I could be risking life and limb fighting werewolves in the woods.

  Tonight his only enemy was boredom.

  He spat upon the ground, barely missing the metal grate a few inches away from his feet. The grate had felt loose when he had accidentally trod on it before. He wondered if he should mention that to anybody.

  Another crack of thunder split the night. Vayer looked up, grateful for the rough-hewn stone roof above his head. Sounds like a hell of a storm, he thought. Thank the Elders he was indoors and not up on the ramparts tonight!

  The deafening boom almost drowned out the sound of clanking against the wall behind him. He looked down in surprise to see the rusty metal grate lying askew. “What the devil?” He fumbled for his sword.

  A powerful hand grabbed his ankle. He yelped in surprise as he was yanked down the drain….

  His glorious career as a Death Dealer ended permanently.

  Two more Death Dealers were posted in the hall outside the Lady Sonja’s quarters. The noblewoman had been confined to her chambers upon the orders of Lord Viktor himself. Rumors were rampant throughout the castle as to what the Elder’s daughter might have done to warrant her imprisonment, but if half of what the gossips said was true, the guards figured she was lucky not to be spending the night in the dungeons instead.

  Could it be true that she had actually coupled with a lycan? The senior guard, a grizzled veteran named Lazar, shook his head at the very notion. Filthy slut, he groused silently. Were she anyone else’s daughter she’d already have been branded as a whore for such a wanton perversion of nature. But that was always the way of things, wasn’t it? The goddamn aristocrats got away with crimes an honest soldier would be flayed alive for even thinking of.

  No that he would ever dare to say so aloud, of course Especially if he thought an Elder might hear.

  He pictured Lad
y Sonja and the slave together. Once you got over the sheer sacrilege of it all, it was hard not to find the provocative rumors vaguely arousing. Salacious fantasies frolicked across his imagination, producing a bulge in his breeches. He licked his lips as he wondered how exactly a lycan rutted with a vampire. Probably took her from behind, he supposed, like a dog in heat….

  A faint noise, coming from just around the corner, interrupted his lubricious reverie. Lazar exchanged glances with his partner, a Wallachian vampire named Dmitri. Drawing his sword, Dmitri hurried to investigate, leaving Lazar behind to stand guard over the bedchamber. Long moments passed as he waited tensely for the other soldier to return. He strained his ears to hear over the thunder rumbling outside.

  Was that a muffled cry he heard? Or the sound of an armored body hitting the ground?

  “Dmitri?”

  No answer came from around the corner.

  Locked within her chambers, Sonja sat forlornly at the edge of her bed. Her hand went to her throat. Although the bite marks and scratches had long since healed, leaving the skin smooth and unblemished once more, the emotional scars left by her father’s attack had not yet faded. She wondered if they ever would. A fresh gown had not cleansed her from the violation she had endured at her own father’s hands. Even now, she could still feel his sharp fangs penetrating her flesh….

  She knew she would never be able to see him the same way again.

  Dark shadows haunted her eyes; she had slept little since the attack, and what meager slumber she had managed to attain had been troubled by disturbing dreams in which a demonic bat, wearing her father’s face, sucked the last drops of blood from her body. Her anguished gaze went to the door. Every part of her wanted to flee Castle Corvinus and never return, yet she knew that the Death Dealers outside would not permit it. She could only await her father’s judgment and tremble at the thought of what terrible punishment lay ahead for her. A vicious flogging such as Lucian had endured—or perhaps something worse?